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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645124">through the looking glass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms'>casdoms (moffwithhishead)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dean has tattoos in canon don't @ me [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive John Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Season/Series 15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:47:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, </p><p>I don’t know if I’m ever going to give you this letter. I’m not even sure why I’m writing it, if I’m being honest. You and Sam seem to have moved on and made peace with who your dad was, and I hope with who I am. I hope you know how much we both loved you boys. How much I love you boys… I hope if you’re reading this one day, it’s because of something good, like me being brave enough to give it to you. I hope it’s not because I’m dead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; Mary Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dean has tattoos in canon don't @ me [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>through the looking glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is kind of a tie-in to the series, but more of a... I referenced this in chapter 20 of "a map of who you are" and I had to put one of my hamsters to sleep today (he was old and had cancer) and I can't finish the other fic I was writing before I had to take him in today. so I cleaned this up and... here we go. </p><p><b>WARNING</b>: my dudes this deals heavily with domestic and child abuse, but nothing is overt. </p><p>set vaguely between the end of canon and the end of AMoWYA. after cas is back from the empty, obviously, but before they have the B&amp;B.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>Dean finds the letter one day when he comes back to clean Mary’s cabin out. It’s nothing short of a miracle that all her shit is still here, waiting for them. It’s tucked between a journal, Mary’s journal, and Dean only opens it because it’s addressed to him.</p><p>His relationship with his mom the last couple years that she’s been back have been… weird.</p><p>A good weird, honestly, once they kinda got passed the whole resentment thing, that Dean wouldn’t trade for the world.</p><p>So, it kinda feels like a slap in the face when he starts reading the letter.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Dean,</em>
    
  </p>
  <p><em>I don’t know if I’m ever going to give you this letter. I’m not even sure why I’m writing it, if I’m being honest. You and Sam seem to have moved on and made peace with who your dad was, and I hope with who I am. I hope you know how much we both loved you boys. How much <strong><span class="u">I</span></strong> love you boys… I hope if you’re reading this one day, it’s because of something good, like me being brave enough to give it to you. I hope it’s not because I’m dead</em>.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Dean blinks away the tears and sits down on the side of the bed his mom slept in her last night in this cabin, dust flying up around him from months of disuse. He wonders for a moment if he should wait until he’s back at the bunker to read this, so that he and Sam can read it together.</p><p>Something tells him to just keep reading.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I’m an incredibly lucky woman. And I know that you probably won’t believe me, but I don’t really have any regrets about how I lived my life – both of my lives. Every decision I made before brought me you and your brother. Every decision I’ve made since coming back was what I needed to do, for me. My intention was never to hurt either one of you, but I needed to be happy too, you know?</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>My only regret in life, Dean, is that I didn’t leave your father when I found out I was pregnant with Sam</em>.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>A car backfiring on the road in front of the cabin startles Dean out of the cloud his head has been in reading this letter. Seeing the words roll out in front of him, having an idea of where they’re all going, feels like an out of body experience.</p><p>He’s suspected, but he’s never… Dean sniffles, wiping his face dry with the sleeve of his jacket and laughing at himself.</p><p>God, he feels like he’s four again. He feels like he’s sitting in his bedroom crying because daddy won’t stop yelling, and Mary’s going to come up here any second to protect him. To gather Dean up into her arms, to wipe his tears away, to kiss the red spots on his cheeks and tell him that she’d never let anything bad ever happen to him. That “<em>daddy’s sorry, he didn’t mean it baby, he’s not mad at you</em>.”</p><p>But this time, Mary’s not here to tell him that everything’s going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Now, I know what you’re thinking</em>, the letter starts again. <em>“Mom, you just said you didn’t have any regrets!” Well, you know boys, that sounds a lot nicer than me saying, “I’d say that I would change everything if I could, but that’s a lie, because I’d do anything, go through all of that all over again, if it meant that I got to be your mom again. But I do regret not leaving when I should’ve.”</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>Castiel told me that John and I were written in the stars, but not in the way I’d thought we were. Of course, I knew that by the time he &amp; I had that conversation – I knew it by Dean’s third birthday. But he also told me that one way or another, everything was going to happen the way it did. Sam would still have been given the demon blood, I still would have died, the apocalypse would have been started. The whole shitshow. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>John Winchester was a good man when we first met. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Did he ever tell you boys the real story of how we met? I was in front of the school talking to a couple girlfriends, and this guy comes up… real handsome, real full of himself, and really, really charming. And he looks at me and goes, “Excuse me miss, but you seem to have stolen my heart.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  
</p><p>Dean chokes a little bit on the laugh, the crying becoming dangerously close to full on sobbing.</p><p>John had told him this story, once, when he was absolutely fucking blitzed. He had no memory of that night, and the next morning he had been concerned with the black eye blooming on Dean’s face. Dean didn’t have the heart to tell him.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I thought your dad hung the moon. He didn’t tell me until after our first date that he was being deployed. He wanted me to wait for him, but oh, I was young and I knew what soldiers did when they were away. I told him that if he still thought I had his heart when he got back, then we could talk about making it official, y’know, going steady. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>When he came back, oh, he put on a brave face, did his damndest to seem like everything was fine and normal. He did such a good job, I didn’t even realize there was a problem until we’d been married for a couple years. You boys have to understand, back then, we didn’t talk about PTSD or depression. It just wasn’t something that we did, and I didn’t even really know much about it until coming back here. And we were 19 when your father proposed to me, we’d barely been together for six months… </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>The first time it happened, it was not long after I told your father about me. About hunting. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Dean has to take a couple deep breaths, do a lap around the room for a moment, because – him and Sam, they’re the ones who forced her hand, made her tell him. But they had to, they had to go back in time, and, and –</p><p>One of the angels <em>had</em> to have wiped her memory. Dean kinda figured that the second the words were out of his mouth, confessing who they were.</p><p>He can’t help but feel though, like it was his fault.</p><p>He sits back down on the bed, his chest aching for something he doesn’t know yet.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>You were just a couple of months old, Dean, and I was beside myself. He apologized profusely, told me it would never happen again, that it was just because he was tired, he lost his temper, every excuse in the book, but I didn’t care. I kicked him out. I was determined that you were going to grow up in a safer environment than me.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>John was a charming son of a bitch. He got sober, and by the end of the year he’d talked his way back into our home for your first Christmas, baby. And when he was good, he was a wonderful dad. No matter how mad at him I was, no matter how furious, no matter how bad my bruises were, I’d see him with you, Dean, and it was like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. He could be a good dad and I wanted that for you more than anything, boys.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>And then when I mentioned that I was thinking about getting a job, things got… bad again. Bad enough that I stole you away in the middle of the night, Dean, and took you to Missouri’s house so that I could go on a hunt. I’d kicked your dad out again and his parents weren’t going to let him stay there again, so I’d given him a week to get his shit out and never come back. I couldn’t be there, because if that man had tried to touch me again, I would’ve killed him. So, I took all that anger and decided to put it to some use and I went on a hunt.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Saved some people. Hunted some things. Felt like my old self again.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  
</p><p>Dean shudders with the recognition of the words, the same sentiment he’s said to Sam.</p><p>It’s eerie that he only spent four years with his mom before she died and yet, Dean still sees so much of himself in her. He wishes she was here to answer questions, or just to hug, but he’s a little shocked by how easily he can read between the lines.</p><p>John did the same thing to Mary that he did to Dean. For some insane reason, that’s the most comforting thing he’s ever realized about his dad.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I bet you’re wondering how Sam happened, huh? Divorce was not super common, back then. It just… it didn’t feel like an option.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>For one, we couldn’t afford it. For two, everything we had was in your daddy’s name. I had what little my parents left me in their will, but I’d put every single penny of that away in a college fund for you, Dean, the second I found out I was pregnant. I had no intention of ever touching that for anything else. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Three? I was scared. And as much as I hated your father, I still loved him.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>He’d been (allegedly) sober for almost two years when it happened. He was over watching you while I was at work, Dean, and when I came home and I saw you two asleep on the couch, your little hand holding on tight to John’s… it was like I forgot every bad thing he ever did. I kissed him once we had you tucked into bed, and the rest was history.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>A couple weeks later, I was pregnant and your dad had talked his way back into our home. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  
</p><p>John had always had a talent for sweet talking his way into and out of situations. In his younger days, Dean had kind of prided himself on how much of that he picked up from his dad.</p><p>But now, reading his mom’s letter, vague hazy memories of early childhood trying to repopulate in his brain, he just feels kinda nauseous with it.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I should’ve left. I shouldn’t have let him move back in. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I wouldn’t trade you boys for the world, back then or now, but I hated being pregnant. I was in bed from the moment I found out about Sam, until a little bit into the second trimester. Oh Dean, I hope you don’t remember much about that time, because I was <strong>so</strong> sick. But even back then, you were the sweetest boy, with the biggest heart. You brought me breakfast in bed every morning before school, and you ate your dinner with me in bed while you told me about your day. You read your brother bed time stories and you kissed my belly every night… you kept me sane during those couple months baby. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>…then you came upstairs one night, and you had a bruise on your cheek. And I wanted to kill him.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  
</p><p>Dean does remember that day, but he’d never been sure if it was real or not before. He was so young and it was one of his first concrete memories, but John had always told them how perfect everything was when Mary was alive.</p><p>Something in Dean snaps and he picks up the water glass that was next to his mom’s journal and throws it at the wall.</p><p>They’d been at the grocery store. Dean had asked his dad for this cereal that Mary used to get him, and he hadn’t had it in a couple months, and he really wanted it, and before he knew what happened, John had smacked him across the face. Right in the middle of the grocery store.</p><p>He’d asked his dad about that once and John had said, “You think I’d ever hit you boys?”</p><p>Dean remembers being thirteen and stunned and wanting to run away and never come back.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>From that point forward, I kicked him out. I could barely stand upright without throwing up, but I got my shotgun from under the bed and the only reason I didn’t kill your father that night, was because you were clinging to my legs, Dean. And I had already failed you once, I was not going to fail you again. We stood there like that, you clinging to my legs and me, pale as a ghost and sweating, pointing a shotgun at your daddy’s head until the cops came to escort him out. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Dean laughs, something dark and bitter, because he has this vague memory of John yelling at the two of them and him immediately shutting up at sound of a shotgun loading.</p><p>Not for the first time in his life, Dean wishes that somebody had taken the shot at John.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I went back to work as soon as I could, and I started saving up for a lawyer. It was bad enough that he’d put his hands on you, Dean, but I couldn’t let him do that to Sam. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>The social worker that came and talked to you after that told me that if I wanted to be granted custody of you boys, I’d need to let John see you. To establish a paternal bond, or whatever bullshit she told me it was – really, I just didn’t have enough evidence documented to completely strip your dad of his rights, yet. I should’ve said no. Ran away with you, changed our names and never even bothered divorcing your dad. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>For somebody who said they don’t have any regrets, looking back on it, I might have some regrets.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>The only reason John was there that night when I died was because the friend he’d been staying with kicked him out the day before. As far as I’m concerned, getting Sam out of his crib that night is the only good thing he’d done in two years. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Dean remembers his first-time visiting Heaven, and the memory of his mom, very pregnant with Sam, making pie with him and arguing on the phone with John.</p><p>He’s not sure if he genuinely doesn’t remember the bad moments, or if his brain has blocked them off, but it feels like he’s being consumed from the inside out with how much he just <em>misses</em> his mom.</p><p>Not 2019 Mary, though he does love her, but 1983 Mary. Who protected him from all the bad things in the world, including his dad, and did her best to keep him safe.</p><p>John always told them that he ‘<em>did my best’</em> with them, or what the fuck ever, but no.</p><p>Dean wipes his face off, feeling angrier than anything at the thought.</p><p><em>Mary</em> did her best. Mary did her best to keep them safe.</p><p>John didn’t do shit.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Dean, I am so profoundly sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you. I am so sorry that you had to grow up with him… I can only imagine how much worse he got after I was gone. I would tear up the whole entire universe baby, if I could go back and change it, to be there for you. I would’ve shot him that night if it meant that you didn’t have to grow up with that man that I hated. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>When I came back and I realized what had happened… I ran. I was ashamed, I felt guilty every time I looked at you boys, and I just – I thought you hated me.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>And then I realized that John had painted this picture for you boys, of someone who I wish I was – I wish that I had been a perfect homemaker, that you’d grown up in a home with parents who were soulmates and loved each other more than anything. I wish that I had been that mother that he told you boys about. I was relieved, Dean, when you told me that you hated me for leaving you with him, because I hated me too. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>But Dean, <strong>I am so proud of you</strong>. I am so proud of the man that you’ve become. You did an incredible job with Sam, baby. He’s a really, really good man – just like his big brother. I never wanted you boys to grow up in this life, to grow up hunting, but I am proud of the men that you turned out to be in spite of your dad.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Having John back tonight, it was… heartbreaking. Because that, <strong>that</strong> was the man that I fell in love with. I wanted that life for you boys so much. I am so sorry that I couldn’t give it to you. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  
</p><p>Oh. Dean swallows back a sob, wanting to curl in around himself, so she wrote this after…</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I don’t know if I’ll ever give you this letter. I don’t know if you need to read any of it. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Maybe it’s selfish of me, to want you to know. But… something you said a while ago, Dean, it’s been bouncing around in my head. How John hated you? Oh honey, I am so sorry. Your dad always said how you were the spitting image of me. I am so sorry he took out his anger for me on you, baby. I know I keep saying it, but it was my job to protect you, it kills me that I wasn’t there. That he did this to you because of me.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>He never hated you, baby.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>And yeah, Dean figured that out when he found a picture of her when he was ten. Dean had her hair, her eyes and her freckles.</p><p>John confirmed it for him on his mom’s birthday that year, when he was sobbing throwing beer bottles at Dean, telling him how much he wished he didn’t look like Mary. That he was a reminder of everything that he lost, and John wished he’d disappear.</p><p>The next morning he’d shown Dean how to determine what wounds needed stitches, and how to stitch them closed.</p><p>“Sorry mom,” Dean mumbles, sounding bitter to even himself. “I think he just hated me.”</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Oh, I think I hear you in the hallway, Dean. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I love you to the moon and back. I hope one day you can forgive me. And I hope that one day, when everything is normal (because it will be normal again), you boys will find somebody who loves you and who deserves you. <strike>(I think you might already have it)</strike></em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>My love always, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em><strike>Mary</strike> Mom</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Dean feels exhausted when he puts the letter down.</p><p>He’s just staring at the wall across from the bed when he hears the footsteps in the doorway.</p><p>Castiel is smiling, concerned, but he’s trying to pretend he’s just curious. “Dean…? Are you alright?” His faux casualness falls flat, but it still makes Dean’s chest feel all warm and fuzzy with the concern.</p><p>He wipes his face off one more time, offering Cas a small smile, “I’m okay, Cas. Just…” Dean glances down at the letter in his hands and sighs, “Found something from mom.”</p><p>Castiel sits down next to him, not quite touching but close enough that Dean can feel the heat radiating off of him. It’s more comforting than he’d care to admit.</p><p>“A good something?”</p><p>Dean snorts and wipes away another tear when it falls, “Uh… no?” He shrugs and tries to offer Cas another smile, but he thinks it looks more like a grimace.</p><p>He sighs, bumping their shoulders together, “It’s a letter for me, about dad…” Dean frowns, “I don’t know if Sam should read it.”</p><p>He doesn’t want to keep anything from his brother, not now, not when they’re both grown ass men.</p><p>And yet…</p><p>Dean sighs, relaxing minutely when Castiel sets a hand on his knee, “She just… she wanted me to know, about John. And I…” He sets a hand on top of Castiel’s, “I don’t know if Sam needs to know all of this.”</p><p>They’ve come a long way with their relationship, and it has come at a cost at times. Something tells Dean that if his brother knew this about their dad, knew that he was the reason Mary didn’t leave John, it would just… set him back. Hurt him more than he already has been.</p><p>Sam has never talked to him about it, and Dean doubts that he ever will, but he knows that his little brother internalizes a lot of guilt for everything that’s happened to them. Because he thinks that if he hadn’t been born, none of it would’ve happened.</p><p>And maybe that’s true, to some extent, but that just means it would’ve happened to someone else. Or maybe it would’ve happened to Dean and whatever other sibling his parents would have had.</p><p>Castiel interrupts his train of thought by flipping his hand over to take Dean’s, “And how are <em>you</em> feeling about it?”</p><p>Despite how wrung out he feels, how sad he is that his mom felt like she couldn’t tell him any of this to his face, Dean smiles at him and it’s genuine.</p><p>“I’m… hurt. And angry.” He squeezes Castiel’s hand, letting out a breath, “And content… I guess? I mean, I just…” He doesn’t know how to explain it, this thing he’s feeling.</p><p>He feels almost relieved.</p><p>Relieved that someone else knows, and doesn’t think anything less of him. Relieved that he wasn’t the only one John treated like that, that it wasn’t anything <em>he</em> did. Relieved that this hatred he’s always harbored for his father, ever since the day he dragged him away from Sonny’s, was justified. Relieved that it wasn’t his fault.</p><p>“I wish she told me when she was here,” is what he says instead. “So, I could tell her that it’s okay. I get it.”</p><p>“I think she knew,” Castiel offers after a quiet few moments. “I think she knew, Dean, that you didn’t blame her for anything your father did.”</p><p>He hopes so.</p><p>Dean smiles a little bit, toying with the journal in his lap, “…Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right.”</p><p>They stay like that for a few more minutes, Dean looking around the room that his mother called hers for a while, just taking in more information about her. How she doesn’t fold her clothes, how she doesn’t seem to separate her laundry, how the fridge was mostly full of frozen food. It’s weird. It’s a good weird.</p><p>Him and Cas pack up the rest of her stuff in the boxes and spare bags that they brought. It doesn’t take many, or long, to load everything into the Impala and Castiel’s truck.</p><p>After Bobby found out what happened to Mary, he couldn’t stomach coming back to the cabin. He packed up his own stuff, packed up some of her stuff that he wanted, and Dean gets it. But it’s taken him a while to work up the nerve to come get her stuff, and he’s damn lucky that Donna is a generous landlord who didn’t mind her stuff sitting around for a little over a year now.</p><p>When everything’s done and the place is locked up, Donna’s key in Dean’s pocket waiting to be dropped off when they drive through her tow, he stops in the driveway and just… looks.</p><p>“You know,” Castiel murmurs after a moment, stepping up next to him. “She was very proud of you, Dean.”</p><p>“Yeah…” He sighs tiredly, a lot of emotions in there. Finally, he turns to look at Cas, smiling, “Wanna go home?”</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel smiles, gentle about it. “Let’s go home.”</p>
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